


L’alchimiste et l’apothicaire

by cambria



Series: Solvant Universel [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, But very scarcely named, Doctor - Freeform, F/M, Follows Brotherhood/Manga, Herbalism, Minor Surgery, Named OC - Freeform, Not my first FMA fic but my first serious one, OC is also a herbalist, OC is an alchemist, POV First Person, Stitches, Underaged Smoking, rating might change?, with maybe a few tweaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cambria/pseuds/cambria
Summary: The last thing I expected when I was sent to the west was for a renowned alchemist to end up being my first patient. I wasn’t ready for that. Or anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been keeping up with FMA since a couple years after the manga was first published. I just recently finished Brotherhood and over a decade later, I figured my writing’s gotten good enough that I can indulge myself. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos if this indulges you, too.

The stolen cigarette falls clean out of my mouth.

There, on my doorstep, is a giant suit of armour that sounds like it‘s twelve, holding another boy who can’t be more than a year older than me. And he’s bleeding out something fierce. The cigarette sizzles and goes out as it rolls over a drop of blood.

All the bleach in the world would never make that come out.

* * *

Being a herbalist has its perks. Being a herbalist who also knows basic alchemy just makes my work a lot easier.

My parents had sent me off to the west, in a small village called Folton. They aren’t doctors, not exactly. They’re apothecaries who just happen to treat people with minor wounds and illnesses. Once I was old enough to understand what they did, they taught me a little bit. Hey got sent off to Reole to help deal with casualties there. Well, no; they went there of their own accord once hey found out what was going on.

They didn’t trust the military to take care of the people there.

With them gone, that left me alone, and I’m not nearly old or good enough at what I do to take care of a shop (and pseudo-practice) by myself. So they sent me off to live Charles Moore, a doctor by trade and a decent alchemist who just happened to be a decent family friend. Honestly, he's a glorified babysitter; he doesn't explicitly teach me anything, but in the few months I've been with him, I've managed to pick up a fair amount of medical knowledge. Mostly from stealing his books in the middle of the night and reading by the light of the smallest candle I could find.

But dealing with someone who has such extensive injuries, and probably way too much internal bleeding? That is something I absolutely am not prepared to deal with.

"Please miss, you have no help him," the giant suit of armour pleads. I swallow thickly and try to steel myself. This isn’t any time to lose my cool and panic.

Deep breaths. I can do this. I can try.

"Come in. Give me a second."

I runinside and leave the door open. Run to the right where Moore's desk is, pileeverything together as neatly as possible and drop it on one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Alphonse, right?," I ask the armour, and though he seems shocked, nods. I walk over to a cupboard and pull out a sheet... two sheets, and spread them over the desk. The blood would probably soak through in no time, but it’s definitely more sanitary.

“Lay him down here. What happened to him?” Gloves! Gloves. I need gloves. The desk drawers should have some.

“I-I’m not sure,” Alphonse begins. The way he fidgets reminds me of when I watched my parents deal with someone whose arm was rotting off their body. “There was an explosion and I think maybe something went through his shoulder! Is the doctor around?”

I wash my hands in the sink, up to my elbows, slip on the gloves, pull my hair back and cover my face with a mask.

“Nope. Just me. Get the jar labelled Goldenseal from the cupboard over here, please. And the mortar and pestle on the shelf next to it.”

With the pair of scissors in one of the drawers, I cut up the shirt from the collar down to the left bicep. And swear loudly.

Alphonse hands me the jar of powder and the mortar and pestle, but I don’t have time to thank him. “I need the honey that’s in the kitchen through that door. Don’t worry about making a mess to look for it.”

The armour disappears through the doorway. I can’t remember for the life of me where the chalk is and I didn’t see a marker in the drawers I looked through. Steadying my breathing is getting harder.

And now Fullmetal seems to be regaining consciousness. Shit.

“Try to stay calm,” I call out to him, walking over to a small filing cabinet. Locked. Great. “I’m going to give you some pretty strong painkillers, so just bear with it for a bit.”

Moore probably won’t mind if I transmute the spare cane he keeps, right? I still need something to draw a circle with.

“I found the honey!,” Alphonse exclaims, just in time.

“Great, perfect, now I just...”

My eyes stop on the elder Elric brother writhing on the desk. Stupid; his blood should do just fine. I hand the mortar and pestle to the younger brother.

“Put as much of the powder as you can in there and just enough honey to make a paste. Try to get as much in the wound on his shoulder as you can,” I instruct, rushing to the desk and covering all the finger of my hands with as much blood as I can. It’s not glamorous.

Alphonse thankfully doesn’t stop once to ask me what I’m doing. I manage to paint a circle on the floor under the cane to transmute at least the tip of it into a flat point. I just hope the metal is strong enough.

Wedge it into the edge between the drawer and cabinet to force it open. The lock gives with a sound I can’t worry about. And there they are; the syringes and whatever the hell it is he doctor usually uses for anaesthetic. Neat little glass vials.

I turn back to Alphonse; though he’s actually slathering as much of the poultice as he’s made onto and into the jagged wound, Edward’s mouth stays resolutely shut. I can see he muscles in his jaw working and hear his teeth grinding.

“...take his belt off.”

“Take... what?!” If he had a face of flesh and bone, I’m sure it would’ve been ten different shades of red and embarrassed.

“Take it off, loop it once or twice, and make him bit down on it.”

Alphonse hesitates for a second before following through wordlessly.

“Alright, Edward?” Twitch of a brow in recognition. Thank goodness; sucks for him, but consciousness is good. “This is going to suck, and then it won’t. Tap out a beat on the desk for as long as you can.”

When I turn around with a half-full syringe—maybe a little less than what Moore uses, but whatever, it’s a teenager, it should be fine—one bright, golden eye is glaring at me, teeth digging into the leather of his belt. It’s enough to freeze me to the spot for a few seconds.

I’m a god damn teenager too. What am I doing?

“The goldseal poultice is to try to staunch the bleeding,” I explain slowly, and make my steps slow and deliberate. Consciously telegraphing movement is harder in practice than it is in theory. “That’s what your brother is covering your shoulder with. The honey should prevent infection. This is...” My hesitation makes both the brothers stare at me a little too intently. God dammit, talk about a time to forget words. “This is enough to put you to sleep for two or three hours. Long enough for me to work without your having to feel anything. Keep tapping that beat.”

The alchemist flinches with nearly his entire body when I first try to grab his arm. Remind him to relax again, and feel for the most noticeable vein in the crook of his elbow. Someone must be watching over me; for some reason his veins are especially prominent and easy to find.

“Keep tapping,” I remind him, quietly, and quietly slip in the needle.

Only one whine makes it past the belt and out of his mouth. I count the seconds out loud. It doesn’t make more than thirty before the tapping stops. This is when I allow myself to fall to my knees.

I wave off Alphonse’s concerned calls. My reassurances come with a complete lack of conviction. I look at the door, hoping the doctor would burst through it and yell about the blood on his porch.

He doesn’t.

My legs shake too much when I finally get up. I try not to look at my hands when I take off the gloves.

“I’m making tea. The poultice needs to set a bit to properly stop the bleeding,” I explain quietly, inexplicably out of breath. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The routine of tea-making barely offers hardly any rest. The damage to Edward’s shoulder is honestly disgusting. Something was pulled out of there that had been decently lodged; from the dust and gravel and dirt in and around the wound, you can only hope it was actual rubble. I can handle that kind of infection decently. Something from tainted metal, on the other hand...

I don’t want to think about it.

I let the tea steep longer than it needs to. Walk back into the lobby-turned-office and grab a sheet of paper from a stack I was going through earlier. Moore... might not mind a recent patient visit summary going missing. I could always just parrot it off to him; Mrs Braun always has the same complaints and the same results every time. Doesn’t matter if one of the summaries disappears. There're dozens more.

Walking back into the small kitchen, I take the tea bag out of the cup, smush it between my finger a bit, and use one of the corners to paint a circle onto the paper. Not my finest work—the lines are fat and my hands shake so much that some of the straighter lines don’t look too good—but it should work just fine. I’ve drawn worse alchemy circles and still had it work just as well.

“What the fuck,” is what I say when I leave the kitchen, steaming mug in one hand and tea-painted paper in the other. “What the actual blooming fuck,” I mutter again, dropping the piece of paper on top of the stack still resting neatly on a chair. “I’m sixteen and too young for this shit.”

That’s as much panic and acknowledgement as I allow myself. If Alphonse passes a comment on my age or language, I don’t hear it. I find one of the suture kits and a lighter and get to sterilizing the curved needle. It doesn’t take long before I burn myself, and promptly stab myself trying to catch a falling needle.

“...can I help with that?,” a small, tinny voice asks. I consider the giant hollow armour for a second before handing over the lighter and needle.

“I’ll leave the fire work to the one who’s resistant to fire. Thank you.” Alphonse nods stiffly—though I find myself wondering for a second if he’s even capable of nodding any other way—and runs the need through the flame for a bit.

I turn to the thread in front of me. I sit down in the only other vacant chair and start unspooling the thread. I’ll have to flush out of the wound in a bit, then sew up as many of the larger, torn-open areas as possible, and then...

And then.

“Here you go, miss.” Alphonse’s voice almost makes me jump clean out of my skin. I nod and accept the needle.

“I’m going to need your help again,” I say quietly. We’ve been speaking in near-hushed times this entire time. It’s not like he alchemist is going to wake up just because we’re talking. Across the desk, Alphonse seems to be eagerly waiting for his next instruction. “The bleeding’s mostly stopped; I need you to get as big a bowl of water as you can carry.”

The younger Elric races to the kitchen, and the changing of pots and pans makes me wince. It’s loud. Meanwhile, I force myself back into my legs, secure the needle to the sheets covering the desk, and rummage through the cupboards for something that could even remotely resemble a washcloth.

Alphonse comes back with a bowl I’m pretty sure he transmuted (somehow) and with enough water to make my life easier. I hand him a washcloth of his own.

“Is the water warm?,” I ask, before chancing dunking my hand and cloth in. Alphonse nods sharply. “Good. Clean out as much of the poultice as you feel comfortable; it won’t matter much if there’s a little left. I can work with that.”

Dunk my hand into the bowl—though maybe it’s more accurate to call it a shallow bucket?—and get to cleaning out the wound. Now that the bleeding isn’t as horrible, Edward’s shoulder doesn’t look... too mangled. Definitely not the worst I’ve ever seen. And he might only need maybe a dozen stitches for the bigger areas. It’s going to leave some nasty scars, but...

Considering his metal limbs, I don’t think he’ll mind much. Or care.

Alphonse stops for a second to look at his brother’s knit brow. I take a second to do the same. He’s clearly in pain, but... well, I hope he won’t remember it. It’s the best I can hope for.

Once the shoulder is relatively clear, and I’ve got a better idea of the damage, I stop Alphonse’s hand before he continues.

“It’s good enough like this,” and my voice starts to shake a little too much. I’ve gone and out myself in one hell of a situation. I walk around the desk, rummage for another pair of gloves to slip on, grab the threaded needle and swallow down the bile rising in the back of my throat. “This area here, I’m going to need you to try to keep it pinched together.”

No question, again; dangerously blind obedience. I would ask it, but the sutures need my full attention. And I’ve only ever sewn together a cut finger and a cut leg, and one of those was my own. The scar on my leg itches when I think about it.

One stitch; done. Slow, and tedious, and my fingers shake so much the scissors rattle when I cut the thread.

Second stitch; I remember more and more clearly how this is supposed to go.

Third, fourth and fifth stitches; it takes less and less time with every snip of the scissors, and I can almost ignore the fact that I am literally seeing flesh back together.

I almost botch stitch six.

Seven through eleven aren’t a problem.

I slump back into the vacant chair with a sigh. It looks... terrible, honestly, and any doctor worth their salt would probably cut off my hands and lecture me while cauterizing the stumps.

“...you’re not really...,” Alphonse begins, but trails off. I shake my head.

“No, I’m not done, I just. I just need to think for a second.”

He waits a beat before asking, “Think about what?”

“How the muscles in your shoulder are supposed to work,” is my short reply. I sit up straight in the chair and pluck the tea-painted paper off the chair next to me.

I study it for longer than strictly necessary. No matter how much I look at it and try to convince myself that it’s fine, I’ll keep feeling like something’s missing from it. I know there isn’t.

I carefully place the paper over Edward’s shoulder. Alphonse’s armour clanks loudly as he stands to his full height, looking over his unconscious brother and I.

He yells something at me, but honestly, I can’t be bothered. I take off the gloves, let my fingertips touch the edge if the alchemy circle, and let my mind and the power beneath my feet do the rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, thanks for sticking around past the first chapter! 
> 
> "Human transmutation" is, from what I remember, not very clearly defined, in Brotherhood or in the manga. (Again: from what I remember. I stopped reading the manga back in... well, way before it ended.) And right now, to kind of get a grasp on Arakawa's inspiration, I'm reading up on the history and origins of alchemy as we know it here. I'm making a lot of assumptions about what is and isn't considered human transmutation, so because of that, the definition of what our (now named!) protagonist is doing. I may revisit this chapter and the first one later, once I've better understood. But for now, please bear with me if it doesn't quite make canonical sense.
> 
> If you have any suggestions or pointers regarding the healing aspect, please drop a line! I'm more than happy to revise what I've written to better fit the canon.

The floor has never been so uncomfortable as it is when I’m exhausted, nerves frayed, and having a panic attack. I can hardly breathe through the hyperventilating, and Alphonse’s concern—panic?—doesn’t help in the slightest.  
  
The wound is, where it matters, healed shut. At the very least, anything that could have bled won’t bleed anymore, and most of the shards of bone have returned to where they belong. It’s still very apparent that there was something in Edward’s shoulder that shouldn’t have been there; the tissue there is puffy and sunken in. There’s a corner missing off the desk. Part of the teacup has been alchemized into something else.  
  
My hair is considerably shorter.  
  
I got too close. I got way too close. It never would have happened, I know; the circle was all wrong, and it’s not like I was wanting to create a new life. But for a good minute, it felt like something was whispering in my ear, begging me to go further. To just give it a little try.  
  
Alphonse probably gave up on getting me to talk. He tries to lift me to my feet, and at first I resist almost viciously. But when the sobbing starts I just... give up. I’ve done enough for today. For a week. I just want to sleep.  
  
The armour guides me into the kitchen, a solid hand around my upper arm to hold me up and one at my back to steer me. He sits be down at the round kitchen table and goes about making... coffee, from the sound and smell of it. He makes himself at home and opens and shut several cupboards in the search for whatever it is he’s looking for. Good. Not like I can talk coherently or steadily right now, anyways.  
  
I didn’t notice my breathing slowed. Huh.  
  
It takes Alphonse a few minutes to get the water to boil, and a few more to pour t over the coffee grounds. He deposits the cup in front of me slowly and gently. I don’t wrap my hands around it right away.  
  
The armour clunks when he sits down.  
  
“You have questions.” It’s a statement because I know he does. Outside of a few people, and alkehestry, I don’t know if a lot of alchemists who actually specialize in the medical field.  
  
“...I never got your name, miss.”  
  
I can’t help but laugh for a few seconds, trying not to lapse into hysterics. All that and he wants my name, of all things?  
  
“No, you didn’t.” Wait a beat to continue. To decide if I should.  
  
“It’s Anna. Anna Belrith.”  
  
Alphonse’s hand is cold when I shake it.  


* * *

  
When Edward wakes up the expected hour an a half later, he’s groggy but not in too much pain. I had Alphonse move him from the uncomfortable desk to my bed. It’s in a small room adjacent to the kitchen. It’s not much to look at, and I give myself a second to feel self conscious about it. The past few months have been about nothing but Doctor Moore’s practice; I didn’t have time for anything else between chores and transcription and errands.  
  
From the main office, I take a roll of bandages, a comfrey salve and, after some consideration, go upstairs to steal one of the doctor’s shirts.  
  
When I enter my room again, Edward’s sitting up against the wall and looks like he’s nursing the headache of the century. He and his brother seem to be discussing rather excitedly until the floorboards creak under my feet.  
  
The doubtful look in Fullmetal’s eyes is a lot more reassuring that the rage and uncertainty is seen in them before. I decide he’ll be fine.  
  
“I brought you a spare shirt,” I explain quietly, balancing the salve and bandages in one arm and extending the shirt with another. “It’s a button up, so please don’t strain your shoulder more than you need to.”  
  
I leave the rest of the bundle on the crate I use as a nightstand and move to leave. A warm hand grabs my forearm. There’s a spark of panic that races through me for a second before I wrestle myself back into a proper state of mind.  
  
“What did you do to me?” The harsh glint in the alchemist’s eyes tells me that there’s no real way to not answer him. He’d probably hound me all day every day until I answered. What a terrifying impression.  
  
“Don’t give me any bullshit. I want to know how you were able to transmute my injuries shut.”  
  
I remain tight-lipped until the hand in my arm tightens it’s grip. For someone my age, his strength is disproportionate. What kind of training did he go through? I cast a sidelong glance at the armour a few feet away; what about him?  
  
“To... avoid human transmutation, I reconstruct the detached tissue and try to speed up the bonding process.” I bring a hand up to my hair. That’s a good five inches I lost. “I normally don’t do it when there’s so much missing, because I need to get the base elements from somewhere else.”  
  
“The teacup!,” Alphonse exclaims and jolts upright. He’s so y’all I hadn’t noticed he’s sat down.  
  
“For calcium,” I nod, and turn back to the elder Elric. “My hair for basic cells to try and stitch things together. The desk...” I trail off, looking out the bedroom door toward the kitchen.  
  
He hand finally lets go of my arm. The brothers exchange a look that I don't want to try to understand. I have a feeling, like electricity in my gut, that asking or wanting to know is just going to get me implicated in something dangerous.  
  
As it turns out, I don't need to ask.  
  
"Why haven't you tried the state alchemy exam? You'd be—"  
  
"Brother," Alphonse cuts him off before I can. Maybe he can see how tightly clenched my fists are. Maybe he's guessed that anything related to the government doesn't sit well with me. Or maybe it's because he's smart enough to acknowledge that a teenager shouldn't be enlisted in the military. From personal experience.  
  
Edward looks at me for a second, and it feels like the gears in his head are turning. He seems to put together my shaking hands, shortness of breath and generally panicked and disheveled look within a few seconds. Closes his eyes and seems to nod to himself.  
  
"Right, sorry," he apologizes quietly, scratching the back of his head. "I keep forgetting not everyone's willing to have a leash around their neck like I am."  
  
I bite the inside of my cheek. It's not that; I'm exceptionally good at following directions. When I was younger, I had considered joining the military, even if it wasn't as a state alchemist. I thought it would be the best way to help the people around me. But with all the rumours going around about the suspicious things happening, that with what I know about the Ishvalan war and what happened in Reole, I don't know that I could ever sign my life away to something like that. I'd never be able to take a life on demand just because I was told to. That goes against everything I believe in. And everything my parents raised me to be.  
  
"It's fine," I answer, sighing, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I thought about it. I really did; I just don't like the idea of killing people. For obvious reason," I explain with a light chuckle. "Besides, if I hadn't been here, what would you two have done?"  
  
This darkens the mood a little more than I expected. Alphonse's eyes look as downcast as I think an armour can manage, and Edward stares resolutely at the hands in his lap.

"Could you...," the alchemist begins, frowning down at his lap before looking at me. The determination in his eyes is a little startling. Does he ever do anything in half-measure? "Do you mind showing me the alchemy circle you used?"

"Uh, sure." That's a little surprising, but I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else. I stand from the bed and head for the door. I want to say something and pause in the doorway, but the words die in my throat. Better not to mention it, anyways.

This time around, I can calmly look around the desks and cupboard for a decent pen and a blank sheet of paper. I've drawn it so many times by now, for note-taking, practice and application, that the movement almost comes naturally to me. I'm careful not to touch it when I'm done before going back to show Edward.

He looks at it like his life depends on it. (Does it?) Alphonse quickly joins him by the bed to take a look as well. I can't help the heat that rises in my face. It's one thing to have Doctor Moore look at my work, but it's the first time that a military official, in any capacity, has taken a good look at it. I hang back by the door and let the brothers mutter among themselves.

Edward calls out my name. Which is almost a surprise, until I realize Alphonse probably told him.

“This is genius,” he says, and the wonder in his voice catches me off guard. I blink a few times, mostly confused. “The way you combine everything and make the body accept an artificial implant made from itself? It’s genius!” He turns back to the circle with a firm on his face that looks a little too hopeful. “You’re right, it’s not human alchemy. It looks like it but you’re just speeding up the grafting process. It’s genius!”

“Of course it’s not human alchemy,” is the only tho I can think to say. “I’m willing to sacrifice a lot—my hair, a teacup—but I would never...”

Both brother stay quiet and cast down their eyes. They look angry, almost guilty. And that’s when the cogs in my head begin to turn.

I’d blindly accepted that Alphonse was a hollow armour; news travels fast, especially among alchemists, even if I am just barely an apprentice. And Edward’s artificial limbs could have been caused by a great many things. Especially if they're from the countryside—which, they are, aren’t they?—but I’d never stopped to think about it more than that.

I should have.

“I’m sorry,” I rush to say, taking a step forward and reaching out for... nothing, really. “I didn’t—I don’t mean to condemn it.” Its my turn to look at my feet in guilt. “I’ve just never had something I wanted enough or missed enough to sacrifice that much.”

“We didn’t know.” Its Alphonse’s tin voice that answers. “If we did...”

“We probably would’ve chanced it anyways, let’s face it.” Edward’s smirk is self deprecating and looks forced. Alphonse hums and nods once.

“Would you—I’ll go make come coffee, if that’s okay?” I feel out of place here.

“If it’s not too much, yeah, I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee right now,” Edward agrees, but doesn’t look at me.

I’ve never left my bedroom so fast. I make sure to pull the door behind me, but leave it ajar.

Pull the coffee grounds from the cupboard, put the kettle on the stove to boil and catch myself before pulling three mugs out. I nervously hope they wouldn’t have been paying attention to recognize the sound of three mugs. Carefully put one back and lean against he counter next to the stove.

I have no idea why either of them are fascinated by what I can do. From what Moore’s said, Xing’s made amazing progress with medical alchemy, though they call it differently. I can’t imagine it’s terribly different from what I do. I don’t look up at my bedroom there, but the thought bags at the back of my mind.

How much more could I help if I knew Xingese theory and alchemy? How much easier would it be, and how much safer? Would I have been able tinnesrly perfectly stitch the elder Elric brother back together again? Would I have been able to avoid the bloodstains on the desk?

I gnaw at my thumb and ignore the slowly building whistle of the kettle. There has to be something more I can do, but Moore doesn’t have anything related to Xingese alchemy, though at this point I start to wonder.

I pull the kettle off the fire and ready the coffee pot and filter, pour the grounds and do my best to evenly pour the coffee over them. Doctor Moore has been a great teacher and just as good of a mentor in medicine as in alchemy, but I need to learn more.

And the perfect excuses seem to be in my bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Edward takes the mug of coffee and looks far too grateful for it. His thank you halts halfway through when he looks up at me. Again, I can almost see his thought process projected onto his face, but I can’t make any sense of it. What a terrifying boy.

“What is it, brother?,” Alphonse asks from the foot of the bed, where he’s doing his best not to take up too much space.

Edward stays quiet and stares at me for a while. And a little more. He eventually closes his eyes after a few seconds which is a massive relief; I don’t know that I can keep such a determined face on for too long, being examined like that.

“Look, if you’re worried about payment—,“ the alchemist begins, but I cut him off.

“No, I don’t care. I know the military’s well off. That’s not what I want.” I try desperately to keep my voice from wavering. Resolve is a hard thing to steel over when someone’s life isn’t on the line. Clear my throat, clutch my own mug of coffee despite the burn. “I want you to take me with you.”

Alphonse stands up faster than I thought was possible. Edward sputters in him mug and Ed’s up with half a face full of coffee. He hisses at the pain and quickly wipes himself off on his right arm.

“What? No! No way. It’s way too dangerous!” Alphonse answers first. Unexpected.

“Too dangerous for me but not enough for you?,” I ask, with maybe a little more bite than intended. Anxiety is making it hard to think before I speak. “Too dangerous for someone who can walk away from it, but not enough for someone who’s forced into it? Don’t give me that bullshit,” I let my mug down on my makeshift nightstand and cross my arms.

“If following you around is that dangerous, you’ve implicated me as soon as you showed up on our doorstep asking for help. Even if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been Doctor Moore. Is it alright because he’s older? Because he runs a practice? Because he’s a—“

“Please—,” Alphonse starts, but his brother cuts him off with a hand.

Edward doesn’t look at me. Until he does. I can’t tell what that is in his eyes, but it’s enough to make me take a step back and uncross my arms.

“You saw what happened to me,” he starts quietly and slowly. This time, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “This is nothing. I was almost killed more times than I can count. Al? Almost got killed too. What we’re trying to do,” Ed takes a breath, as if to replace what he wanted to say. “It’s putting us on a lot of people’s hitlist. But we signed up for this. I signed up for this. I’m not letting you shove your nose in the middle of something like this for no reason, sorry. Try someone else.”

I grit my teeth against the violence that threatens to spill out of my mouth. Ball my fist and dig my nails into my palms.

“There’s an uprising in Reole,” I start quietly, through mostly clenched teeth, trying to reel in my anger. “The priest was cast out but as soon as the military showed up, everything went to shit. I heard Doctor Moore talk with my parents over the phone. That was two months ago. I don’t even know if they’re...”

I trail off because I don’t want to think about it. They headed there to help and now there’s no way to know if they’re even still alive or not. Screw my eyes shut against the idea of it.

“I hate that I’m stuck here completely useless and incompetent. I can’t do anything here, and I’ve already learned everything I can. If I can access the state libraries, I can learn more about Xingese practices, and I can avoid having to—“

“Xingese?,” Alphonse pipes up, much to the apparent dislike of his older brother. “You mean alkahestry?”

I nod. “Everything they do revolves around medicine and healing and just, stitching yourself back together. I can barely keep someone from bleeding out on my front porch, but with that, maybe I could actually help someone for a change.”

Edward’s legs swing over there side of the bed. His younger brother rushes over and tries to push him back down, but he’s swatted away. The elder brother grips the edge of my beds with both hands and stares between his knees.

“...we’re not taking you past Central.”

“Brother?!”

I can almost taste the knowledge on my tongue. Edward raises his head to level a steady look at me. It feels like a challenge, and I gladly accept it. Take a few steps forward to extend a hand.

“Then I stop in Central and learn as much as I can there and on the way,” I reply back, feeling the excitement and determination bubbling through my veins. “And make sure you stay in one piece.” Offering help is the least I could do. It may not be equivalent exchange, but it’s something.

Edward uses his right hand to shake mine. It feels like a blood deal.

It might as well be.

* * *

The note I write Doctor Moore is short and succinct. Met an alchemist, had to heal him, did a pretty mediocre job and I need to follow him around for a bit to make sure he’s okay. Headed to central.

And that was it.

I grabbed some of the more important herbs in the way out—comfrey, goldseal, boneset—some clothes and bandages, and whatever small thing Moore probably wouldn’t miss or care about. I hesitated with the books, but ultimately brought the most useful herbal and my own journal. If I was going to follow what was obviously a reckless teenager around, I may as well keep my research on me.

It‘s only once we reach the train station—after over half an hour of walking, during which time I curse Moore’s beautifully positioned home—that I realize I have absolutely no money on me whatsoever.

The elder Elric waves off my concern before I can even open my mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says nonchalantly, paying for all three tickets. “Consider this part of my IOU,” Edward ends with a grin, turns and walks off towards our quay. Alphonse and I are left to stutter and rush after him.

He wait for he next train is filled with the brothers’ conversation and occasional banter. It begins to bring back memories that I quickly stomp down. Instead, I bury myself in my journal.

The transmutation circle I’ve been able to design is useful, but clearly needs more work. Bone is still tedious to fix, if that’s even remotely possible, and I need to learn how to force the body to produce more red blood cells. And white; infections are still a tricky thing to deal with. I pull out one the more concise herbals to try and compare; there must be something in there that can help the body to produce more white blood cells.

It takes a bit to realize that the Elric brothers have gone completely silent. Nearly jump out of my skin when I look up to see two glowing red-white eyes staring steadily at my journal. Edward crouches a foot or two in front of me, equally transfixed.

“I—uh, can I—is there something wrong?,” is the only barely intelligible thing I manage to squeak out.

“White blood cells...,” Edward mutters, one gloves hand in front of his mouth. I’m not even entirely sure he’s heard me.

“You’re trying to find out how to fight off infections?,” Alphonse asks, and it takes a second of lip-worrying to answer.

“Yeah, I... Doctor Moore’s had a lot of people come to him for one thing or another, but I was usually the one to deal with minor cuts, contusions and smaller infections,” I explain, turning my eyes back towards my scratchy handwriting. “I’ve only really been able to help with herbs and poultices, but I’ve been wondering if there isn’t a way to combine what I know of herbalism with alchemy, to speed up the process.”

I sigh heavily and ultimately slap both books shut and hang my head. “It’s a complete dead end though. I don’t know enough about alchemy yet to come up with something that makes sense, and all the useful information is locked behind a damn military wall!”

My frustration seems to take both brothers aback; Alphonse sits up straighter on the bench next to me and Edward seems to realize something. I can practically see the gears grinding in his head, and he clenches and unclenches his jaw like he wants to speak.

Edward finally opens his mouth.

“We’re going to Central anyways, why don’t you—“

"Don't worry," I start, waving off the older alchemist. "I entirely plan on abusing your military privileges and have you take me to the library."

Edward frowns, but I can't figure out why. He opens his mouth once or twice, before shutting it one last time. I can see the muscles in his jaw working like he's trying to keep himself from saying something. If he was about to words to his thoughts, Alphonse interrupts him to announce the train coming in the distance. I don't put my journal or book away; at the very least, I can keep myself busy on the train.

We sit down—Edward and I next to each other and Alphonse across us in his massive armour—and I instantly shove my nose back into my book. The brothers were discussing some kind of "fake lead", Alphonse determinedly pointing out that Edward had been far too brash and not nearly mindful enough of his own body.

I stayed on the same page for fifteen minutes without absorbing an entire word on it. Not mindful enough of his own body..?

"Well it turned out alright, didn't it?," he defends himself, gesturing in my general direction. "We found someone to patch me up, right? It's fine!"

"No, brother, it's not fine!," Alphonse replied, more angrily than I'd heard him so far.

"He's not wrong," is what I contribute to the conversation. I keep my eyes glued to the page I haven't been reading.

Both brothers stay quiet. I can feel their stares on me like hot irons. I only lift my gaze after a few seconds. I look to Alphonse across from me first. I imagine he'd look incredulous, if he could. When I look to Edward, my stomach flips. I'M not sure what to make of his expression, but something about it is very upset.

I clear my throat and slowly close my book.

"Your brother isn't wrong," I repeat again, neatly folding my laps. Holding Edward's gaze is a lot harder than I anticipated. "Automail aside, the scarring you already have isn't normal," I explain, quickly glancing down at his chest before looking back up. Whose eyes are that golden? "You seem to constantly put yourself in dangerous situations without thinking about what's going to happen to you. What if you die? What if I wasn't able to heal you, just barely? What would Alphonse do?"

I can almost feel the anger bubbling up Edward's throat. I raise my hand to stop him and shut my eyes, shake my head.

"I don't want to hear that nonsense about how I don't know you. I don't need to." I frown and try my best to emulate the disappointed glare my mother would level at me. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm speaking strictly professionally. You need to take better of yourself. You're reckless. You won't live to see next year if you keep going this way."

Alphonse begins to reach out, but I'm not sure if it's to me or his brother. He aborts the motion either way, lowers his head and nods in quiet agreement. I sigh and lean back against the seat, just as the train leaves the station.

"I don't have the right to say I'm worried about you," I say quietly, closing my eyes and gripping the edges of my books tightly. "But your brother is. That should be enough to at least try to be safer."

The conversation ends there. Anxiety burns through my like white fire and I wait for an angry retort. But none come. I think to the suitcase that was stowed over my head.

I'll need to ask Edward to bandage him up later.  
Nothing heals faster than comfrey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on some transmutation circle concepts, things that Anna would be using. I've come up with a simple one and a more complex one, for something I have planned later on in the story. I'm not sure how I want to link them here yet; maybe I'll make a separate Tumblr for this fic. Who knows. I'll probably do it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! 
> 
> I've done my best to actually proof-read this before posting (for once), but it's highly probable that I missed a few things. Let me know if you spot any mistakes, typos or inconsistencies! 
> 
> Or I mean just leave a comment because you feel like it. It's nice to read comments.

The first time we get any kind of rest is in West City. The weather is horrible and the wind whips my hair against my cheeks, into my eyes. Despite the braid, Edward seems to have the same problem. It's raining, we're wet and we're miserable. At least Alphonse seems to have an easier time of it.

Thankfully, the hotel has a fireplace in its lobby we can at least begin to warm up and dry down in front of. Edward hands over his state pocket watch and some kind of a wallet to Alphonse. A few minutes later, while I'm carefully pulling out my books from under my shirt to inspect the damage, the younger brother comes to lead us up two floors to our room.

It isn't long after luggage is put away in a corner of the living area and jackets shaken out that Alphonse announces he's going back out to see if he can catch wind of any rumours.

"West City is pretty big! Maybe someone heard something about the stone, a lead we can follow," he explains, and I have a feeling it's mostly for my benefit.

Edward waves him off, wishes him good luck, and cautions him about a seal. Alphonse nods like he understands, promises not to bring back any stray kittens again, and as quickly as we came, he's gone back out the door. I don't pay much mind to the elder Elric—who seems to be passed out on the couch already anyways—and instead stow my books in my suitcase and pull out a change of clothes. I'll catch my death if I stay in waterlogged shirts and pants.

I carefully lay everything out on the edge of the bathtub to dry, and leave my jacket hanging on the door knob. I come out of the bathroom slowly towelling the water out of my hair.

The missing length still bothers me.

I don't look in the mirror.

Edward's sprawled on the couch, quietly snoring away. His shirt and jacket are still soaked, and he hasn't even bothered removing his red coat. Housekeeping's going to have a fit if the couch is even so much as damp. I punch the sole of Edward's right boot to jolt him awake.

He promptly jumps and falls right off the couch. I can't help but stand in place, confused and amused.

"The hell was that for?!," he shouts from the floor. There really can't be any bite to his words when he looks like a confused wet dog on the floor.

"You need to get changed," I explain shortly, perching on the couch arm Edward's feet just vacated. "And after that, I wanna take a look at your shoulder, so make it quick. There's a poultice I want to rub into it to try and speed up the healing process."

I continue to towel dry my hair as Edward slowly gets up, still glaring at me. He shrugs off the coat to throw it over the back of the couch, and his boots go flying somewhere near the front door. I do my best impression of someone who didn't just notice that he lost almost a full inch in height without the boots to compensate. I might actually be taller than him?

Once the alchemist actually makes it to the bathroom—with a confused grunt, probably at the sight of my clothes spread all over the place—I go back to my suitcase and pull out the comfrey, mortar and pestle I'd stowed. With the help of some tap water from the small kitchenette, I manage to make enough poultice to at least cover the biggest of the scar my transmutation left. Once i'm done at the counter, I turn back toward the living area.

And almost run straight into Edward's bare chest. Huh; he's actually almost an inch taller than me.

I grip the mortar with white knuckles not to drop it, clothes my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself. The alchemist takes a hurried step back and apologizes.

"You don't—maybe try not to just appear behind me like that, shit," I mutter, brushing back him and motioning at the couch with a nod. "Sit down."

Stunningly, Edward obeys without any hint of protest. Not even in his eyes.

"What is that, anyways?," he asks, gesturing at the mortar in my hands.

"Comfrey," I reply shortly, kneeling in front of him, nudging his knees apart with my elbows for more room. I scoop up most of the wet, finely crushed herbs and begin to carefully smear it in the center of the angry red scar. Edward hisses above me. "Sorry. But, yeah. Comfrey stimulates cells to speed up the healing process and reduces inflammation. It's... kind of toxic though." I can feel Edward begin to argue, but apply a little bit more force into his shoulder. He stops moving. "Only if it gets into your bloodstream. It's hard on the liver, but applied topically it's fine."

Edward hums at that. He moves his head to the side, and I have to brush his hair away from where I'm working. Weird; a ponytail actually feels like it makes him look older. Maybe it's just that I'm seeing him without that vibrant red coat.

I scoop up the rest of the mix to finish applying it. I vaguely register Edward's metal hand balling over his clothed knee.

"I'm almost done," I say quietly, frowning and trying to spread the herb over as much of the scar as I can. I should've brought honey. That, at least, would've prevented any kind of infection. I'll have to see if I can buy some before we grab the train again in two days.

I press the poultice in with the flat of my right palm, doing my best to keep it adhered for a little bit. I have to put the mortar down on the floor next to me to use my left hand to brace the back of Edward's shoulder; he keeps letting himself get pushed back even after I tell him to stay stiff. Once I'm sure the poultice won't just slough off after a second, I sigh and hang my head for a second. Then brace myself against Edward's left knee to push myself up.

I do my best to ignore the red tint to his face and how he seems very, very interested in the window off to his right. I tell myself it's for his benefit.

"Don't move yet," I instruct, going back to my suitcase behind the couch and rummaging for a second to find the roll of bandages I'd brought along.

When I return to face the alchemist, I motion with a hand for him to stand up. I pick at the edge of the bandage roll, unravel a few inches and placing the end right under Edward's left arm, at his ribs.

"Hold it there for a sec," I mumble, having to tap his left arm for him to keep it raised, while his metal hand hold the end of the bandage in place. I keep praying the poultice doesn't budge while I lean forward, bandages in my left hand, to wrap my arms around Edward's torso to pass it around to my right hand.

My face almost presses against his chest. I do my best to ignore the heat in my face and steady the trembling in my hands. I've done this dozens of times! There's literally nothing to be nervous about!

After three loops of his chest, I tell Edward he can remove his hand, and I keep wrapping the bandage up his chest. A few times, I loop it over his shoulder. It takes nearly five minutes of careful wrapping until I'm satisfied and the poultice is completely concealed.

Then I remember I don't have scissors.

I don't have any god damn scissors.

It takes a few seconds of me standing too close to Edward without doing anything, a carefully blank expression on my face, before he speaks up.

"Uh, are you... okay?"

I swallow thickly before looking him in the face.

"I uh. I don't have any scissors to cut this with," I say, lifting the (considerably smaller) roll of bandages.

Edward snorts. "Gimme that," he says, after pressing his palms together. What looks like small lightning crackles along his right index finger, and I can barely register what's happening until he grabs the roll from my hands. With a suddenly very sharp finger, he slices through the bandage and hands me back the now separated roll. He tucks the loose end away himself, and steps away from me to gently pat his chest.

I can't help but look a little dumbfounded as he transmutes his finger back to normal. I've never actually seen anyone use alchemy that casually, let alone without a circle. It's fascinating. I clutch the roll and observe my handiwork for a second before letting my eyes settle on the automail.

"Thanks for that, An...," Edward starts, but trails off when I take a step forward. He takes a step back when I motion to reach out. "W-what's wrong?"

"Your automail," I say shortly, taking another step forward to tug the bandages down a little. "Make sure these don't get stuck in it. I'm guessing that could be a problem if it gets jammed?"

There's something that crosses Edward's face that I can't really process or understand. But he grins and scratches the back of his head. I can only guess it's happened before, and not with the best of timing.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty bad. I'll be careful." He grabs the shirt he'd thrown over the back of the couch. It's only now that I notice him wince. He does the motion of pulling the shirt over his head slower than I thought he would. Though he's making a conscious effort to mind the bandages and the poultice, there seems to be something wrong with his right arm.

"Hey," I call out, trying to grab his attention. Once Edward shakes his hair free out of the neckline, blinks a few times at me. "Are you okay? I mean—aside from the bang-up job I did on your shoulder. You look like you have a hard time moving?"

Edward sighs—a lot more wearily than I expected—and drops himself back onto the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm fine," he answers, throwing his arms behind his head. "Rain just makes my stumps ache. It's nothing."

I hum in acknowledgement, going from the kitchenette, to my suitcase, and back again with more herbs. I can almost hear his attention drifting to me when I start going through the cupboards. They have a kettle, at least; it looks like it hasn't been used in a bit, but it's something. I fill it with water, light the stove and set it to boil.

"I'm making your turmeric tea," I explain, turning around to lean back against the counter. Edward's eyes are already lidded; I can't tell if he's genuinely tired, bored, or some combination thereof. "There's chamomille in there too. My parents would give that to people post-surgery to help sleep through the pain at night. I can't guarantee it'll work perfectly but..."

He hums in what I assume is acknowledgement but doesn't say anything else. He leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes completely. The sound of the kettle whistling seems to startle Edward awake a few minutes later, which—good, I wasn't looking forward to waking him up again.

I dump the herbs straight into the kettle to steep. Lord knows I need to sleep, too. Once the tea's done, I carefully bring both mugs over to the couch, hand Edward his with a quiet word of caution, before sitting down at the other end and curling up by the arm.

After his first sip, Edward actually looks... pleasantly surprised? Looks at me with another expression full of everything; gratitude, surprise, and something else that comes and goes before I can identify it.

"Hey, this isn't actually half bad for a bunch of grass in hot water."

I can't help but laugh.

Alphonse isn't back by the time I climb into my designated bed, but Edward stays comfortably sprawled over the couch in what I assume is a vigil.

The sound of clanking armour wakes me deep into the night. My dream after are filled with stories of knights in shining white armour and shimmering blonde hair.

* * *

 

I wake up with the sun the morning after.

I amble out the bedroom and attempt to return Alphonse's cheerful greeting. I hadn't thought about that before; he doesn't sleep, does he? Can he? Does he feel the need to?

Does he miss it?

I need coffee.

Edward is, once again, snoring away on the couch, limbs all over the place. This time, at least, he's covered with a blanket. I can't help but be under the impression the younger brother put it there.

I go through the cupboards in the small kitchenette one by one. And then go through all of them again, for safe measure. There are plates, bowls, flatware...

But no coffee.

I bend at the waist to drop my head against the counter. I'm not human in the morning until I have coffee. It's going to be miserable. I won't be able to talk to anyone without snapping at them. Alphonse doesn't deserve that.

"What's wrong, Anna?"

I sigh and stand up, only to let myself slide down the counter and sit on the ground.

"There's no coffee here," I answer, more of a grumble, and pull my knees up. If Alphonse isn't laughing it sure as hell sounds like it. "Did you see anything yesterday that might actually serve caffeine?"

The lights that serve as the younger brother's eyes almost seem to curve while he laughs. I file it away for later consideration.

"Yeah, oh course. The lobby downstairs has a cafe! You can probably get breakfast there too. It seemed pretty good."

Not once does his tone falter from its merriness, but I can't help but feel that there's something under the words. File that away for later, too.

"Thank god. You're a lifesaver," I say with a grunt, pushing myself off the floor and heading for the bathroom. I stop at the end of the couch, and contemplate Edward for a second before turning and asking.

"What time is it? Should I wake this one up t—"

"'m already awake, no thanks to you," the blanketed mass answers me. I jump back in surprised and put a hand against my chest.

I want to say something, but bite back the words. No coffee, no snark. Grit my teeth and continue to the bathroom. Lean against he door after I lock it.

Rather than scattered all over the place, my clothes are neatly folded on the vanity by the sink. I expected them to be damp at best, but when I grab my tank, it's bone dry. I frown down at he fabric in my hands, but ultimately dismiss it. I can ask the brothers about it later.

Leather jacket in my arms, I wander out of the bathroom and head straight for the boots I left by the door. Call over my shoulder, "You two coming with?"

While Edward grumbles something under his breath (that I'm probably better off not hearing), Alphonse seems to think on it a bit before standing up. "Yeah! We can show you the library after breakfast, right brother?"

The elder brother yawns wider than I think a human body should probably be allowed to, scratches the back of his head and throws the blanket off. Leaves in on the floor. I try not to let it bother me.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll meet you downstairs." And with that, retreats to the bathroom himself.

I give Alphonse a questioning look, and he does the best impression he can of someone shrugging their shoulders.

"Guess it's just me and you for a bit then," I comment lightly, opening the door and waiting for Alphonse to join me. "Can't wait to feel human again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long wait for this one, sorry! I had the hardest time deciding where to cut if off, so there's quite a bit after this written. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up next week.
> 
> I'm currently going back through the older chapters to try my best and correct anything that may have been left over from previous read-throughs. This includes rectifying a few continuation errors and things like that.
> 
> And if you're up for being a beta reader, please hit me up! I could really use someone who has like. Better eyes. Also possibly a better brain?
> 
> Lastly, I've finally got [that blog](https://herbalalchemist.tumblr.com/) up! There's literally nothing yet, but I'm hoping to change that very soon.

Sitting across from someone who physically can’t eat isn’t as awkward as I was worried it would be. Part of it is thanks to Alphonse himself; he makes conversation effortless and effortlessly. Even while I eat, he makes it easy not to feel self-conscious.  
  
“You said you’re from Folton, right?,” he asks casually. I nod as I shove another slice of bacon in my mouth. “That’s southeast, isn’t it? What’s it like?”  
  
“Mm, small, for sure,” I answer, pausing to think as I sip at a (blessed) cup of coffee. “Not much there honestly, it was mostly textile businesses, lots of seamstresses. My parents helped out the town doctor and sold herbal remedies. That’s pretty much it.”  
  
Alphonse stays quiet for a few seconds. I’m assuming he’s processing what I said; trying to imagine it. If the Elrics are from the farmlands, I can’t figure he’d be able to envision it pretty well. Folton really is just maybe a few dozen roads, a grocer, a Doctor, my parents and way more old ladies weaving and sewing than any town actually needs. There isn’t even really a school proper; the younger kids just go to the town hall. Even I stopped going when I was twelve in favour of staying home. My parents let me, obviously, but...  
Suffice to say it’s small and usually boring.  
  
“You...,” Alphonse starts again. I can hear the hesitation in his voice. Again, I find myself curious about just how he works. “You mentioned your parents are helping in Lior.”  
  
I place my mug down on the table slowly and deliberately. I expected this to come up, but I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know that I want it to go anywhere.  
  
I let my silence prompt the younger brother into continuing. When he doesn’t, I clear my throat and lean back in my chair. Appetite is a finicky thing.  
  
“Yeah, they... when they heard about what happened after the uprising, they didn’t want to leave the sick and injured in the hands of the military.” I open my mouth again to apologize, but remember it’s only Edward who’s actually a state alchemist. Alphonse seems to understand despite my hesitation. He nods slowly, and I can’t help but pick guiltily at the potatoes and beans on my plate.  
  
I expect Alphonse to keep asking questions about me and my life in Folton, but the air itself feels like it changes. It reminds me of my mother scolding me for trying to eat the cookies straight out of the oven.  
The younger brother carefully—and very deliberately—folds his hands on the table in front of him.  
  
“When you opened the door before, were you smoking?”  
  
_Caught._  
  
I’d been hoping no one had seen or remembered that. The situation is just made even more awkward and uncomfortable for the fact that it sounds like a twelve year old is scolding me from inside a seven and a half foot tall suit of armour. I could try and come up with an excuse, or a shitty deflection—but what’s the point? I can barely get my own thoughts organized enough not to panic.  
  
This is when Edward decides to grace us with his presence. A conversational out has never looked so good. He slumps down in the third chair at our small table, to my right, throwing an arm over the back of the it. He looks obnoxiously familiar and comfortable.  
  
Maybe that’s how you get when you travel for a while. I don’t know if I aspire to that level of nonchalance, if it means never having a place to call my own.  
  
He still looks annoyed and half asleep.  
  
Alphonse somehow manages to convey that he is absolutely not done with our conversation but has the good grace to drop it for the moment. To be continued.  
  
I return to sipping at my coffee while the brothers quietly discuss whatever it is Alphonse found—or didn’t find—last night.  
  
Edward seems to relax considerably when a waitress returns with a coffee pot. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases as soon as he... gulps it down, black and piping hot. I can’t help but chuckle as he laments his burnt tongue. Idiot.  
  
“How’s your shoulder feeling, Edward?,” I ask, hiding my face behind my mug.  
  
“Ed,” he replies shortly, stealing a slice of bread from my plate and chomping—actually chomping—down on it. He continues with a full mouth. “‘s fine. Feels tingly, but fine.” He considers the bit of toast in his hand. “Thanks.”  
  
“Just tell me when it starts to itch,” I say with a nod, downing the rest of my coffee and contemplating my plate. “Don’t scratch at it, whatever you do. I don’t want you to give yourself an infection.”  
Edward—Ed—clearly bristles at that. Great. If it’s not itchy already, he’s picked at it by now. I sigh and shove my plate towards him. He can have the rest. Exasperation completely killed whatever was left of my desire to eat.  
  
“I’m gonna need to get honey then.” Cross my arms over my chest and glare down at the table. Ed grunts in agreement, though I’m not convinced he's actually paying any attention to what I'm saying. Or cares all that much. "You're paying."  
  
This catches his attention. Tries to speak with his mouth full, nearly chokes, and when he opens his mouth again seems to think better of it. The younger brother seems to consider Ed for a second before turning back to me.  
  
“Is here anything else you think you’d need before we leave?” His hands are folded neatly on the table again. Sometimes it feels like I can see him glaring at me. Has he just gotten that good at nonverbal cues?  
  
“Well, I absolutely need honey”, I start, crossing my arms and staring down at the table to think. “It’s the only this that’s antibacterial that keeps pretty much forever. And it’s cheap. Probably more bandages, too. I didn’t take a ton because I didn’t want to rob the doctor blind. That’s really all I can think of.”  
  
Ed has the good sense to look somewhat guilty. It wasn’t like I was asking for things purely out of self-interest. I would’ve paid for that myself, with what little money I was able to bring with me.  
When I look at the plate I gave the older brother, it’s empty. So is his mug of coffee. I look down; so is mine.  
  
“Guess it’s time to hit the streets?”

* * *

West City is bigger and more daunting than I imagined when I can see it in daylight. It’s maybe only eight in the morning, but the streets are bustling with people going to and from work and stores. It’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere near a larger city that I’m awestruck for a while as we walk.  
  
“Did you catch that, Anna?” Alphonse is the one to bring me back to... whatever conversation they were having without me. I clear my throat sheepishly.  
  
“Sorry, no, what was that?”  
  
Ed looks at me unblinkingly for a second before answering for his brother.  
  
“We were thinking of going to the library here to research something. Do—“  
  
“Yes please!,” I cut him off, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. Two or three passers by turn their heads. “Sorry! Sorry. Yes. Library. I want to go with you.”  
  
Alphonse laughs and Ed chuckles; did I miss something?  
  
“I mean yeah, that too, but this is your first time in West City, right? Why not go do some sightseeing?”  
  
The question and Edward’s tone both catch me off guard. I’m sure that if I could see his face, Alphonse would have a strange expression too. They both seem to be waiting for my answer. I guess I made my curiosity a little too obvious.  
  
“Uh, well...,” I trail off, looking at the streets and building around me. Taller than pretty much anything I’ve seen, and these mostly seem residential. “I mean. I wouldn’t say no. What all is there to see around here?”  
  
The brothers give each other a look and I don’t need Alphonse to have a flesh-and-bone face to know he’s wearing the same exact grin as his brother.  
  
“Well, there is one place I’m sure you’d like,” Edward says, putting a finger to his chin like he needs to think about it. I hesitate to ask.  
  
“What... what is it?”  
  
After roughly a half-hour walk, it’s a garden. A garden split in half, right down the center: one half is stuffed with poisonous herbs, and the other half is populated uniquely with herbs with medicinal properties.

The Elric brothers are only wrong on one point. I don’t like it, I absolutely adore it.

“I had no idea a place like this actually existed,” I breathe out, wringing my hands in front of me. Cannot touch. Must absolutely not touch anything.

“We heard about it from Doctor Mar—“ Alphonse is cut off by his brother slapping his arm. The sound is cavernous.

“A friend of ours from the military!,” Ed completes, a little too merrily. I don’t particularly care about who their friend is, honestly, but I don’t ask why Edward bothers to hide the name. “He brought this place up a while ago but we never really had a reason to check it out for ourselves.”

Predictably, where the medicinal half is free access right from the front gate, Ed needs to flash his pocket watch to have us let into the poisonous area. We’re given masks to cover our noses and mouths—something that Alphonse makes a show of falsely putting on beneath his helmet—and let in through thick glass double doors into what seems to be an over-sized greenhouse.

The sight is deceptively breathtaking.

“Oh my g—is that nightshade?” The vibrant violet flowers catch my eye. As i rush over to the small plant, another catches my eye. “No way, is that monkshood? And there! Oh my god. This is incredible!”

When I spin around, Ed has his arms crossed and chest puffed out, and it doesn’t escape me that he looks significantly happier than he did when he first joined Alphonse and I for breakfast. Even the younger brother himself had his hands clasped in front of him in what looks like a distinctly pleased manner.

I look around again, before turning back to the brothers. I try my best to ignore the myriad possibilities of antidotes long enough to be civil and appreciative.

“Thank you. This place is fantastic. You know,” I walk towards a plant, motioning to its leaves. “This agave plant, if it’s in contact with your skin, it can cause serious damage.” Ed visibly takes a step back, despite already being several feet away. I can’t help but laugh. “But if you’re careful with how you prepare the leaves, it can actually get rid of pretty bad migraines!”

“And you can recognize it just like that?,” Alphonse asks, walking over to stand next to me, not nearly as apprehensive as his brother. “How many have you memorized like that?”

“Oh geez, I probably couldn’t recognize a quarter of the plants in here!,” I reply, walking down the row to a large bush, filled with red and yellow buds. “But I know a lot of the more common ones. This thing? No idea. A lot of the plants here probably aren’t native to Amestris at all, which is why they have to keep them all in a greenhouse.”

“How old did you say you are again?,” Edward asks, from a more than respectably safe distance away. There’s something underlying in his tone, but I can’t be bothered to think about it.

I keep my eyes on the black-red leaves in front of me.

“I didn’t say,” is my original answer, until I turn back around again. “I’m sixteen. Why’re you asking?”

“How long have your parents been away?,” he asks, not a hint of hesitation or awkwardness to be found.

Nope.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter.” I turn back to continue down the row of murder flowers before reaching an intersection. I choose to turn right for no particular reason.

I can barely hear Alphonse say something—probably trying to urge his brother to just drop it, but maybe I’m projecting—but I can hear both of them walking after me. I don’t make two feet past a decent growth of what’s probably hemlock before stopping. Was that shattering glass?

Edward and Alphonse hear it too, I think, if their halting footsteps are anything to go by. I turn back to ask them where they think it came from when there is an unmistakable explosion somewhere behind me. Ed’s eyes go wide and he rushes past me.

“Go back outside!,” Alphonse urges me, stopping for a second to put an armoured hand on my shoulder and following after his brother.

I’m not given time to respond. My first and instinctive concern is that someone’s here to steal something. And considering this entire part of the garden is essentially, literally, bred to kill or otherwise incapacitate...

I run in the opposite direction of the small plume of smoke I can see rising up to the greenhouse’s glass roof. If I was a thief, I would probably misdirect, right? That sounds like a safe assumption.

And if it’s not, at least I’m as far as possible from a murder plant-seeking thief.

Only as I reach a small tree-like plant filled with vibrant red-orange flowers do I stop to wonder if maybe, if it actually is a thief, they might be after the healing properties of one of the plants here.

I’m out of breath from running, bend over with my hands on my knees when I hear the distinct sound of someone running.

In my direction.  
 _Shit_. I was banking on being wrong.

I’m about to duck underneath a table, take a shortcut to the next alley over where maybe I won’t be seen. But as I crouch low, someone rounds the corner.  
  
Their face is completely obscured. They’re dressed all in black—not the best choice when surrounded by vibrant greenery but okay—and they have a bag slung over their shoulder. There’s a nasty bruise already forming above their right eye, but what’s most preoccupying is the black glove on their right hand.  
  
I might not know what its intended use is, but even I can recognize a transmutation circle when I see one.  
  
“Get away from there!,” the would-be thief calls out at me. I can’t help but be stunned by the youth in the voice. Probably younger than me.  
  
“Listen, this is a bad idea,” I start, but the thief is already kneeling to place a hand on the ground. The floor slowly bubbles a few feet in front of me. “We can help you!,” is all I can get out before smoke—or is it steam?—bursts through the grey tiled floor in front of me.  
  
I entirely expect to be engulfed in something and cover my face with my arms, but...  
  
There’s nothing.  
  
I barely have time to register the fact that there’s suddenly a wall in front of me when hands grab me from behind. The scream dies in my throat and I can physically feel the tension leaving my body when I’m turn to face Alphonse.  
  
“Oh thank god—“  
  
“We told you to run you idiot!”  
  
Ed is a blur of red and black when he passes us. I don’t know how he made it through or over that wall, but one second he’s there and the next I can hear him shouting barely ten feet away.  
  
“Come on, Anna, brother can handle this,” Alphonse says, in a way I guess is meant to be reassuring. It would work infinitely better if his voice wasn’t as shaky as I felt.  
  
I let him drag me away. I look back only one to see another plume of smoke.  
  
I can only hope nothing actually catches fire. They’d have to evacuate the next five blocks over.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness! Work has been an absolute nightmare for the past two weeks. I've had most of this written down, I just wanted to give myself to at least give it a proper once-over before posting. 
> 
> Thank you for those returning returns for sticking around, and thank you so much for the reviews!! They really gave me the boost I needed to get this done.

Alphonse guides me outside as quickly as he can manage before running back inside. I feel useless standing by on the sidewalk. Part of me wants to urge people to run away and evacuate, but I don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic. If the brothers needed me to do something... would they really have told me?

I do my best to ignore the rumbling under my feet and the sound of even more shattering glass.

I can’t help but think about how easily both Elric brothers moved. There was no hesitation in either of them. If anything, they only seemed more apprehensive because I was there. Is this normal for them? Will my following them really cause a problem? Edward had seemed reluctant and Alphonse was originally entirely against the idea. He had said it was too dangerous.

It never really sunk in that Edward’s part of the military. Even Alphonse, albeit in a completely unofficial capacity. What else have they seen? Had to deal with? At least, with Doctor Moore, I had the benefit of being able to stay in the comfort of a building with the relative certainty of not getting killed or attacked.

Three cars pull up haphazardly along the sidewalk in front of the gardens. Military police rush out in a hurry to get to the main entrance, somewhere behind me. One man stays behind and approaches me with easy, measured steps.

It’s hard to tell what intimidates me about him. The several stripes on his shoulder tell me he’s rather high up, if I remember ranks and insignias decently enough. His beard is also... a little menacing. It’s thick and long and black and almost completely obscures his mouth.

But his eyes—I can’t look away from his eyes. So deep and dark a brown as to look nearly black. He’s not frowning, not really. But there’s something in his expression that unsettled me. It takes a second to realize I’m being scrutinized.

I don’t like it. 

“And you are?,” he asks, hands firmly clasped behind his back. He glances behind me, making sure all his men are inside, before settling his gaze back on me.

“Anna Belrith. The Elric brothers are inside,” is what I offer in response.

The man’s eyes narrow; alright, so he knows Edward and Alphonse. I’m not entirely convinced that’s a good thing. I wring my hands nervously in front of me.

“You know the Fullmetal alchemist, then.” It should be a question. It probably is. But it sounds flat, like a statement. I only nod in acknowledgement. The man grunts. “And why is a stray like you following them around?”

His question makes all the hairs stand up on my body; the indignation tastes like bile in the back of my throat. But before I can say anything, the garden doors burst open behind me. When I turn, I see two—three?—officers struggling to drag the thief forward.

“Let me go, you damn wolves!,” they scream, doing their best to kick and thrash to get away. Their mask has been taken off.

And he’s so young. He looks about like I’d imagine Alphonse would. His brown hair offsets his vibrant and disconcertingly green eyes.

There’s a burn on his cheek. The skin’s already beginning to blister. I run forward before the intimidating Colonel can stop me.

“Please stop for a second!,” I call out to the two officers trying to restrain the boy. “I know how to treat their burn. At least let me do that!”

I don’t actually have anything to treat burns. But I fall to my knees in front of the boy and officers anyway and make a show of looking through my small shoulder bag. There’s a comfrey slave, some other dried herbs, and a small jar of aloe gel. That’ll have to do. I also pull out a pen and one of the few pieces of scrap paper I shoved into the bag.

The officers yell at me to get away until they don’t. I don’t bother looking up until I’ve popped the lid off the aloe and hastily drawn a transmutation circle. When I do lift my head, the boy’s been allowed to kneel down in front of me, and Alphonse looms menacingly behind both officers. 

I can feel the imposing beard-man glaring dagger into my back like a physical thing. A shiver crawls up my spine. 

“Just turn this way,” I whisper to the boy, who obediently turns his head without a touch. I apply the gel as gently as I can, but I can see his jaw clench and unclench. He does well, though; not a peep out of him until I lift the piece of paper to his cheek.

That’s when he grabs my wrist. The boy turns to look at me and his stare is unsettling. Maybe because it vaguely reminds me of the way Ed glared at me barely two or three days ago. 

So much determination and rage in those green eyes. Barely a hint of uncertainty.

The officers pull roughly on the boy’s arms.

“Hey, watch it, you brutes!” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Grit my teeth against an apology and exhale sharply through my nose. I look to the boy. Same piercing eyes. “What do I call you?,” I ask carefully, lifting the paper to his cheek again. He probably wouldn’t give me his real name if I asked, anyways.

“...Enton,” is the short answer I get.

“Alright Enton. This is probably going to feel a little strange, and maybe sting a bit. But don’t worry, okay? It’ll help that burn go away faster.”

The boy nods. I gently stick the paper to the gel, enough for it to stay still, and place my fingers on the outer rim of the circle.

The whole process takes roughly two or three seconds, during which I do my best using as much of the gel and paper in the transmutation as I feel is safe to. When the dim blue glow fades, I carefully peel the remaining paper off and gently rub in the rest of the aloe. The skin doesn’t look as red and inflamed as before, and whatever blister was forming is barely noticeable. Overall, not too bad.

The officers haul the boy to his feet so roughly I’m fairly sure he doesn’t even touch ground for a second.

“Oh my—would you wait for a second!,” I call to them again, roughly giving everything back into my bag before standing. “Enton, do you already have a doctor you see? Some kind of a physician?”

The officers look at me both like I’m a wanted fugitive and have grown a third head. This is when Alphonse decides to step in.

“Anna, I really don’t think—“

“Let her, Al,” Edward pipes up, seeming to magically appear from behind his brother. Bite the inside of my cheek at the remark; it can’t be helped that his younger brother is a hulking suit of armour almost anyone is dwarfed by.

There’s something in the way Ed nods to me, though. Like he knows something. I don’t know what it is, but it feels safer to play along. I turn my attention back to the boy. He seems confused for a second, before a similar looks of realization crosses his face I’m sure now crosses mine.

“No, I don’t,” he replies slowly, then rushes to add, “but neither does my sister canyougoseeher?” The words tumblr out of his mouth so jumbled and fast I can barely understand them. 

I pull another scrap of paper and my pen from my bag again. “Of course. Tell me where she is.”

* * *

“Did he tell you?,” I ask Edward, clutching the brown paper bag of honey and bandages close to my chest.

“Not really,” he confesses, scratching the back of his head. “He kind of just blurted something about needing some flower to help someone, so I just figured...” He trails off, but I understand. Young like that, it would’ve been obvious Enton was trying to help someone close to him.

“I was standing next to some foxglove when I was spotted. Was that was Enton was after?”

Ed shakes his head. “I don’t know, he didn’t say, and I wasn’t really in the mood for friendly conversation.” Fair enough.

After asking a few passers-by, it becomes clear that Enton’s sister, Claire, is staying in some kind of long term care facility. Edward and Alphonse don't catch it, but I've heard my parents talk about those often enough to know what it means.

Most people leave in urns or caskets. 

On the way there, Ed and I do our best to compare notes on what Enton's told us. Claire is maybe ten and has always had a weak heart. They're orphaned, but their aunt and uncle are looking after them the best they can. They have ten cousins. It's a household of fourteen, everyone included. It's a cramped space. And there's a plant in that garden that could help Claire with whatever heart condition it is she has.

I have to rub my temples. This is already too complicated. Something in that garden could help... without knowing what Claire's condition is, there's no way for me to even guess if it actually is foxglove she needs. And if it is, how? Every single part of that plant is poisonous. Maybe there's something that could be extracted from it, but it's not like I have the means or installation to play around with that kind of thing.

When I cast a sidelong glance at the elder Elric, he's already staring at me. Now, he frowns.

"Think of something?," he asks quietly, like somehow it's upsetting that I may have thought of anything at all.

I shake my head a little. I hear Alphonse turn to me as we walk.

"Mmm, not really. I can't do anything until I find out exactly what Claire has. I can probably narrow down what plant Enton was after once I know that. But even then..."

I explain my dilemma to the brothers. It'd even be a pain just to cultivate the foxglove, nevermind figuring out which part of it I'm supposed to pick and use. Alphonse's hum resonates through his armour.

"Well," the younger brother starts, sounding significantly cheerier than I feel. "If its a lab you need, I'm sure whoever's in charge of West City’s military branch won't mind if we borrow theirs, right?"

Ed and I both flinch at that.

"With the impression we left on that guy back there...," I trial off, and Edward carries on next to me, crossing his arms.

"I don't think the military would be willing to let us use their stuff for something like this either."

Alphonse slumps and does his best equivalent of deflating. I put a hand on his left arm and try my best at a reassuring smile.

"It'll be fine. Labs are nice, but my parents have been getting by for decades on a lot less. I'll figure something out." Brave words for someone who’s barely sixteen. I hope my bravado will last.

The rest of the walk goes by in relative silence. I let myself fall behind the two brothers after a while. They talk quietly ahead of me. The architecture in West City isn’t dramatically different from home, not in noticeable ways. It’s in the colours used and the general structure of the homes and buildings. It’s just different enough to feel foreign.

Homes and shops become connected buildings and warehouses after a bit, until eventually Alphonse points ahead of us.

The road ends abruptly where a long, gravel road winds all the way up to the long-term care facility. The entire place is surrounded by stone walls, a little taller than Alphonse’s armour, and the only visible way in is through an ornate black iron gate. It smells of money. Can a family of fourteen really afford this?

Once we get closer, the guard booth is visible. You’d easily miss it from more than twenty feet away. The guard steps out from her concealed station in the pillar of the wall connected to the gate. My eyes go straight for the baton at her belt.

“Good morning!,” she calls out. The happiness in her voice catches me off. Ed and Alphonse don’t seem too bothered by it. “Visiting someone today?”

Edward takes a step forward and opens his mouth. He can barely get a word out before I pull on the back of his hood to stop him.

“Sorry,” I apologize quickly and sheepishly when he turns to glare at me. “Truth is, I’m an apothecary and there’s a girl here I was sent to come see.”

The guard woman frowns at me and I can tell she’s skeptical. 

“You’re a bit young to be off on your own for that, aren’t you?”

I slap a hand on Alphonse’s arm. Hide the fact that it hurts a little more than I thought it would.

“That’s why I have these two along! The other one’s a state alchemist. This is kind of my first errand on my own.”

When the woman turns to him, Edward does his best to very nonchalantly pull out his silver pocket watch. The guard makes a face, a strange mix of concerned and impressed.

“Well, alright then. Just head to the reception desk on the right when you go in. They’ll be able to tell you where your patient is. Visiting hours aren’t technically for another hour or two, but they should make an exception if they know I let you in.”

The guard woman does her best impression of a salute to Edward and laughs as she goes back inside her pillar. The gate swings open inward with hardly a sound.

Once all three of us cross the threshold of the gate, it’s like the thread that held us all upright snaps. I breathe a sigh of relief and Ed slumps forward. Even Alphonse tilts his head back in apparent relief.

And then Ed rounds on me. He looks furious. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the 2+ month wait for the chapter! I really am! This and chapter 8 have been written for a while, but I’ve been so freaked out about proofreading it that I just... couldn’t bring myself to post it. But here it is now—in all its mostly edited glory.

Ed chews me out while we walk up to the front doors. Says he's used to this and that I should have just let him speak. That all he really ever needs to do is flash his watch and say he's with the military and it's a done deal. He doesn't immediately understand why it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. During the whole thing, Alphonse keeps quiet. But it's clear that he understands both my concerns and his brother’s.

”You flash that watch, ” I start, hand on the cold metal bar of the door. ”Then what? They ask you why the military needs to be here. Why I'm here. What do you say then? That I'm here for a ten-year-old girl? And then what?”

Edward huffs and looks down at the ground. He didn't think that far, clearly. Not that I did, either, but the guard gave the impression that honesty would be the better policy, by far and wide.

”That’s what I thought,” I mutter, and push through the door into the facility’s lobby.

It's as bright and clean as I expect, from my parents’ stories. It doesn't smell like antiseptic or disinfectant like most hospitals. It almost smells like firewood, which is unsettling by itself. But it's the lingering, almost background scent of lilacs that makes me wonder. Ed seems to catch onto this too.

“G-good morning!” A cheery, if slightly baffled receptionist, greets us from behind the counter to our right. I guess we do look pretty odd. Alphonse probably stands out the most.

Before I can speak up, Ed’s the one who steps forward to place a hand on the counter. When he steps away, his pocket watch is there. 

“Sorry for the scare,” he starts, toothy grin and all, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know visiting hours aren’t for a bit, but my brother and I need to take this apothecary to see a new patient. If we give you her name, can you tell us where she is?”

The receptionist looks like she could be a mother to all three of us, and maybe that's what does it. Her features smooth out and she looks from Ed to Alphonse behind and finally to me. I manage a small wave if the fingers.

She's waiting for me to speak. 

I'm clear my throat.

”Her name is Claire. She has a heart condition I think I might be able to help with. It's my first job away from my parents.” I try to blend my anxiety into sheepishness. It seems to work; the receptionist’s while face lights up.

”Claire! Yes! Small thing, about nine, ten years old? Oh, she's a dear!” The woman stands up and walks around the counter to come to meet us. She puts a hand behind my shoulder and guides me along with her. ”Come on! I'll show you which room she’s in. I really do hope you can help her.”

”Is she alright?” Ed keeps his tone as cool as he can manage. He keeps glancing at the receptionist like he expects something to go wrong. Does he see something I don't?

”As good as she can be, sure, ” the woman starts, steering me to the left, toward a staircase at the end of the hallway. ”but her brother, the older one? I think he's been getting himself into some trouble.”

”What kind of trouble?” Alphonse asks this time. If the woman is surprised to hear such a young, tinny voice, she doesn't show it.

”You know, I'm really not sure. I've heard him talking with people in the little boudoir upstairs, but every time I go to check on him he's all alone. And I haven't seen him much lately. Do you know if he's alright? Those kids only really have each other now.”

I'm about to ask what she means—does the know about the aunt, the uncle and the cousins? Has she not seen them? Don’t they visit?—but the receptionist stops in front of a door and motions all three of us to keep quiet. Probably worried Claire might still be asleep.

I hear the hushed voice of the receptionist and the high, quiet voice of a girl. The woman comes back to the door and motions us in after barely a minute.

“You’re lucky,” she says brightly. “Claire’s been awake for a little bit already. Go on in; I’ll go get her attending nurse for her daily checkup.”

With that, Ed, Alphonse and I are ushered into the room. The door softly clicks behind us.

Claire’s absolutely tiny. She’s small and looks frail. The brothers stand awkwardly by the door, not sure what to do. I take a deep breath and take a step forward. 

“Hi, Claire. My name is Anna. Your brother Enton sent me,” I explain briefly, walking to the foot of the bed to grab the clipboard there. Her chart is excessive; she must’ve been here at least a month.

“Is he okay?” Claire’s voice is small and soft, even as young as she is. I can’t help but frown. Does she know?

“Well, I saw him earlier this morning. Why do you—“

“He won’t tell me anything,” she says, cutting me off. She pauses for a second and looks embarrassed about it. I nod at her to continue. “He doesn’t tell me anything. He’s been saying he’s taking care of things but I’m scared. He’s been talking to strange people. I don’t like them, but he won’t say what he’s doing.”

I turn back to look at the brothers. Ed is looking at the floor like he could burn a hole through it. Does this sound familiar to him?

“What kind of strange people, Claire? Do you know?” I ask, flipping over another page on her chart. More heart rates, blood pressure...

“I don’t really know,” she answers meekly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I never really see them, but there’s at least a man and a woman, I think. I saw the lady walk by my room once. I think she had a tattoo.”

I hear both brothers gasps and take a step forward. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when I catch something on Claire’s chart. 

It’s a heart murmur. A massive one. There’s no way any herbs or distillations could ever help with this, nevermind foxglove. What was Enton doing in the garden, then? Nothing there would be able to help. 

“Claire, I need to you remember what that tattoo looked like,” Edward asks, clearly trying his hardest to keep calm but completely incapable of keeping all the urgency out of his voice. “Did it look like a curled snake with wings?”

Claire frowns and looks down at the hands in her lap. Her fingers trace patterns on the blanket until her face lights up.

“Yeah, yeah it did!”

Edward’s entire body seems to go rigid. I don’t need to look back at Alphonse to know he’s mirroring the reaction. Ed turns to look at me.

“We’ll be upstairs,” is all he provides before stalking out of the room. Alphonse follows, but not before casting an obvious and long glance at Claire.

The tension seems to ease from the room as soon as the brothers leave. It’s almost a relief; whatever has them on edge is clearly none of my business. It doesn’t stop me from staring at the closed door for a few seconds before walking over to the girl’s bedside.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” I ask, holding the clipboard to my chest and nodding at the bed. Claire nods. It’s softer than I remember hospital beds being.

“How much do you know about your condition?”

* * *

When I wander upstairs about a half hour later, after having had a decent discussion with Claire’s attending nurse, the brothers aren’t there anymore. I ignore the nervous pangs their absence sends through my chest and make my way down to the first floor’s reception desk. The receptionist smiles brightly at me. 

“There you are! I was wondering what happened when I saw your escorts come back down without you,” she says warmly. She puts a stack of papers to the side and crosses her hands on the desk in front of her. “So, what do you think? Is there anything you can do for that poor girl?”

My throat feels tight and my mouth is dry. I try my best at an apologetic smile.

“I don’t think so, no,” I answer honestly, clutching the strap of my bag with white knuckles. “Surgery would be her best option, but I’d have to ask my teacher if that’s even possible. But she’ll be fine for a while, as long as she doesn’t strain herself too much.”

He receptionist nods gravely. The frown doesn’t suit her.

“Well, at least she’s alright for now. We’ll take good care of her, don’t you worry.”

I mutter some quick thanks and goodbyes. I can see Alphonse’s shadow again the front door before stepping out.

Edward looks...strange. I can’t tell if he’s exceptionally upset, excited or confused. He looks like a mix of all of those and then some.

“Find anything interesting?” I ask, following the brothers’ lead as they begin to walk back to the gate.

“Maybe,” Alphonse answers, seeming to look up at the sky before looking back down to me. “Did you figure out how to help Claire?”

I shake my head. “No, there isn’t anything I can do now, even with what little alchemy I know. One of the valves in her heart doesn’t shut at all when blood pumps through,” I explain, looking down at my feet. “If someone were able to operate on her, that would be be best thing, but I don’t know if that’s even possible, or what you’d even do about it.”

Edward stops cold in his tracks and turns to look at both his brother and I. He finally narrows his eyes at me.

“So you’re saying that no plant could fix whatever’s wrong with Claire.”

“Um. Well, yeah,” I answer, hesitant. “If her murmur was less significant, maybe medication could help. But it’s too severe for that. Why? What did you just figure out?”

Ed grins. It looks like someone’s just handed him the answers the the entirety of the universe.

“We need to see Enton again,” Ed says, completely unhelpfully, and turns back round to walk to the gate. I look up to Alphonse for some kind of explanation, but he shakes his head, apparently just as confused as I am. Or maybe it’s just too long of a story to explain while changing down a miniature state alchemist.

“Wait, wait wait wait. Enton was arrested! How are we even going to see him?”

The gates open in front of us. The guard woman leans out through her small hidden door to wave at us. Ed’s the only one who doesn’t wave back.

“You leave that to me,” the older brother says. When I catch up to him, there’s something devious to his expression. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the horizon.

“Okay, but that literally doesn’t explain anything,” I say, looking back and forth between the brothers. “I feel like there’s a lot I don’t know here. What aren’t you telling me?

Alphonse has the decency to at least sound a little bit apologetic and nervous. Edward just frowns, stuffs his hands in his coat’s pockets and keeps resolutely stalking forward.

“Um, well,” the younger brother starts, looking at Ed in the apparent hope of getting some kind of approval. There’s none to be found. Alphonse seems to take that as a go-ahead. “There’s this group of people we’ve seen before, that’s why brother was asking about the tattoo. All of them so far seem to have it. They call themselves homunculi, and they’ve—“

 _What_.

“Woah wait.” I grab Alphonse’s arm to stop him and make him turn around. Ed stops a few steps in front of us, but again, his eyes seem glued to the road ahead. “Sorry, just—okay. Alright, I’ll keep my questions for when you’re done, go ahead.”

Alphonse starts walking again, slowly, until I catch back up. I have the distinct feeling this is going to be a difficult conversation to wrap my mind around.

“Right, well. We’ve met a few of them so far. There’s one called Envy, and I’m pretty sure he’s a shapeshifter. Then there’s Lust; she can extend her fingers into spikes. There’s Greed, who can turn his entire body into the ultimate shield, and Gluttony can eat literally anything.” Alphonse counts them all on his fingers. It’s almost endearing; he’s looking up to the sky like it’ll help him remember.

Does that work? Even in a hollow armour body? How is it that there’s still some kind of habitual muscle memory without actual muscle? And why are all the homunculi named after religious sins anyways?

“Oh! Right, I forgot the most important part. They don’t seem to be able to die at all.”

That stops me in my tracks. I quickly recover; if I delay us any more than necessary, it feels like Ed’s going to yell at me again. I pick up the pace to catch up again.

“Alright. Okay. So, assuming homunculi are a thing, everything you said after that makes complete sense,” I start, staring at Ed’s heels in front of me. “But I’m really, really wanting to know how a homunculus is even a thing. No one’s even been able to successfully create one, ever.”

“That’s what we thought at first, too,” Alphonse answers, turning his head to look down at me. “It’s a little more believable when you’re fighting against one, I guess.”

“You _fought_ them?!”

“It’s not like we had much of a choice,” Ed answers bitterly, turning his head just enough for me to see one golden eye. “Trust me, I want nothing more than to sit ‘em down and interrogate them, or whoever their Father is.”

The emphasis on the word “father” isn’t lost on me, but it’s a question for another time

“So you’re not kidding,” I say quietly after a while. “Someone’s successfully created a human—more than one. Fully functional, essentially immortal humans with crazy abilities. That’s what you’re saying.”

Edward shrugs ahead and Alphonse hums in confirmation.

“This... this changes everything, though!” I can feel excitement bubbling up my throat. “Whoever made them can probably help you, right? Maybe you can reverse—!”

“It’s not that easy, Anna” Ed interrupts. His voice sounds strained; it’s enough to kill my enthusiasm almost instantly. “Those homunculi, they aren’t—they’re not human, not really. And whoever made them definitely doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Brother...”

Somehow, Alphonse manages to convey dismay and sadness with barely any movement, and only his voice. I exhale sharply through my nose.

“Okay. Sorry, well. Alright, maybe not whoever made the homunculi. But the fact that it was done at all, that’s something, right? I mean, even just for me, that means that there’s so much more I can do, medically, than what I’ve seen so far. It might not be a lead, but at least it’s hope, right..?”

I look up to the armoured brother for some kind of reassurance.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right, Anna,” Alphonse says, sounding cheerier wth every word. “If something like that is possible, there’s gotta be a way for us to make things right again, for the both of us.”

I don’t miss the hint of a smile that crosses Ed’s face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter eight! A lot faster than my last update. Pray for me that I can actually get chapter 9 written and proofread before the end of the year..!
> 
> I'm pretty much literally pulling this out of thin air as I go, because I realized that the story I was originally wanting to go with made no sense when you considered the homunculi's motivations, so I'm sorry if it seems a little confusing. I'm hoping to clear things up in chapters 9 and 10. And then, and then! 
> 
> I didn't originally plan on making a series—that kind of happened when I started getting all these ideas—but eventually I'll cut this story off once the kids get to central, and there will be a (kind of? brief???) timeskip and I'll be starting another story after that. It's partly lazy writing, but also partly because I know that if I don't write it this way, I'll never be able to finish writing this. And I... really want to finish this. It'll be one of a very, very few fics that I'll ever have been able to complete. And probably the only complete one that'll be like, well written? 
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading through my ramble! You can find me on LJ under Alkahestric and on Tumblr as HerbalAlchemist!

It takes us a little over an hour to get to West City’s headquarters, and my feet are sore by the time we stop at the front gates. The building is stark and spartan on the outside, the courtyard—if it can even be called that—is monstrously massive and gives the ground a thoroughly uninviting look. Normally, Ed would take Alphonse with him inside and ask to see Enton himself. Apparently, it’s a little harder to justify dragging me along for the ride. I’m barely any older than them, if at all—it’s not like I ever asked—and there’s only so much Edward’s title and rank can do.

So before Ed goes anywhere near the place, I hold onto his sleeve and take out the pen and scrap paper from my bag.

“I have questions for him,” I explain quickly, scratching things down into the paper. I bite back a curse when the ink smears. “Foxglove won’t help Claire, so either I’m wrong about the plant he was after, or the homunculi want foxglove for some reason. And you should ask him why he would do anything for them at all, if they asked him to do anything to begin with.”

“Anna, geez, calm down,” Ed says, putting a heavy metal hand in my shoulder. The pen slides across the word I was writing. I scratch it out.

“I don’t want you to forget anything, and I can’t go in with you!”

“Don’t worry, Anna,” Alphonse says, putting a hand down on my other shoulder. “Brother’s got a good memory, it’ll be fine.”

I bite the inside of my cheek in consideration before stuffing the paper and pen back inside my bag.

“Besides,” Ed continues, crossing his arms and puffing his chest. Like this, you could almost believe he’s the taller of the two of us. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about all of that! Gimme some credit, I am a state alchemist.”

“Yeah well, that’s exactly why I want to make sure you don’t mess up,” I mutter bitterly, shoving my bag behind my back and pulling on the strap.

And with that, Edward rushes off across the courtyard towards the military building, and then he’s gone. I slump forward and lean against Alphonse. It didn’t escape my notice that there are public phone booths across the street, but...

“You should call Doctor Moore,” Alphonse provides, completely and wholly unhelpfully. “He must be worried. It’s been a few days, and I haven’t seen you call him once.”

I wince at that. It’s not a lie, but the idea of speaking with what is sure to be a Very Angry Doctor isn’t a pleasant one. When Alphonse takes a step forward, I’m forced to stand on my own.

“Ugh. I know you’re right, I just...”

“I can dial the number for you,” the younger brother offers. “At least that’ll be out of the way, and then all you have to do is talk!”

“You make it sound like talking is going to be the easy part,” I complain, but when Alphonse walks across the street, I follow him anyways.

I walk myself into a booth and put my hand on the receiver. Take a deep breath, pick up, dial and wait.

“Doctor Moore.”

“Um—uh. Hi. It’s Anna?”

There’s a pause. I can hear a deep breath being taken.

“Anna Belrith, I hope to god you’ve become religious because prayer is about the only thing that can save you right now.”

Oh no. Moore is livid. Furious. Not that I didn’t expect it, but his tone is harsher than I thought it would be. Is there something else he’s mad about? Maybe the supplies I took..?

“I’m sorry, but they’re state alchemists, they can get me the books and knowledge I can’t get from you and there’s only so much you can teach me when I’m this young and I want to learn more about alchemist and alkahestry and I could just—“

“Look, stop, I understand why you did it,” the doctor says gruffly. I can almost hear him run a hand through his graying hair. “I get it. But what am I supposed to tell your parents?”

“Have they... did they call?” I ask hesitantly, turning back around to look at Alphonse. He stands patiently outside the booth, doing his best impression of someone who absolutely has a million better things to do than eavesdrop on a phone conversation.

“...no, I still haven’t heard from them,” the doctor answers quietly. His anger sounds like it’s fizzing out into nothing. He sounds apologetic. I don’t like that it feels like he’s pitying me. “Where are you, right now?”

“Oh. Uh. I’m, uh.”

“Out with it, girl.”

I swallow thickly. “I’m uh, right outside West City’s military headquarters?”

I hear something clatter to the floor and doctor Moore swears.

“ _You’re what_?”

“They had business here! I think! Look it’s a quick stop and then we’re going straight to Central—“

“Anna Belrith you are coming back here on the next train or so help me—!”

"Sorry Doctor I can’t hear you! What was that? Doctor?”

I smash the receiver back in, with maybe a little more force than necessary, and hold my breath for a second. It’s not like he could call back, right? And if we leave soon, he won’t possibly have the time to actually come hunt me down, right..?

Once my hands stop shaking, I sigh and slowly walk out of the booth. Alphonse rushes over, hands up but unsure what to do. I can’t blame him.

“That could’ve gone better,” I state, trying to make it sound pleasant, but even I can acknowledge that I sound miserable.

“Did he say anything? Are you alright?” His concern is almost heartwarming. It’s enough to make me smile, even if only a little.

“I’m fine. But he hasn’t heard from my parents, and...” I trail off, looking off to the military building across the street. “I don’t know how my parents would feel about me being here. Or going to Central. They’ve never been big fans of the military.”

Alphonse lowers his hands and his head in what I assume is understanding. I playfully punch one of his arms.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Alphonse! You guys are letting me see libraries I probably would never be allowed to get close to,” I say, trying to reassure him. And myself. “I don’t think my parents would be super angry about that, so it’s worth it, for me.”

“I just hope we don’t make things harder for you at home, that’s all,” Alphonse says quietly, looking very much like he’s twiddling his thumbs.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” I pat his arm and walk past him on the sidewalk. “Come on, there are a few benches over there. We might as well sit down somewhere while we wait.”

Though I’m aware Alphonse probably doesn’t... really care, whether or not he stands, it eases my nerves. I pull my jacket closer to me. Though fall’s just beginning to settle in and the sun is still warm, the breeze is getting cooler.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Anna,” Alphonse begins. I can feel the hairs stand up on my arms. He has the voice of someone who’s about to reprimand you as gently as possible.

“The smoking, right?” I ask, making a point to stare at the road in front of us.

Alphonse nods, and looks down at his hands.

“Aren’t you too young for that? Did you steal them from the doctor?”

“Yeah, I... it’s complicated. I haven’t really talked about it to anyone, ever, and I don’t know—“

An armoured hand on my shoulder makes me flinch. I’m met with Alphonse’s unwavering glowing red gaze.

“I won’t make you talk about it, then. But you can always talk to me about anything.”

I hate how this absolute, actual child feels more like an older brother, more of an adult than most people I’ve met. I nod slowly and exhale sharply. That could’ve gone worse.

And then I get a solid smack in the back of the head.

“Mmm, yeah, I deserves that one,” I mutter sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head.

“Brother and I have sacrificed a lot for something unobtainable,” Alphonse says quietly, lacing his fingers in front of him. “We’ve seen a lot of people sacrifice almost everything for things that ended up not being worth it.” I expect him to turn to me. He doesn’t. Instead, his voice grows even quieter. I have to leak in close to hear. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your health, for anything.”

The sincerity in his tone shocks me. Because it comes from someone younger, and someone who barely knows me at all. After a second of hesitation, I decide to put my hand on Alphonse’s shoulder in a way I hope comes off as reassuring and appeasing.

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were so worried about it,” I reply just as quietly, stating closely leaned in. I decide to look out into the street. He may not have facial expressions, but somehow, staring at the younger too intently still makes me feel self conscious. “It’s not like I spoke for a while anyways. Maybe by the time we get to Central, I’ll have kicked the craving altogether!”

As if I’m cue, a cat—probably a stray—bursts out onto the sidewalk from the bushes, and Alphonse’s mood instantly lightens.

Meanwhile, I try not to think about how little I’ve heard from my parents lately.

 

* * *

When Edward emerges from West City HQ nearly an hour later, he runs down the stairs so fast he skips almost half the step. Doesn’t look both ways before rushing across the street to meet us. When he finally stops, he doubles over with his hands on his knees trying desperately to catch his breath. Alphonse and I wait patiently for him to speak.

”Good news is, ” Edward starts, doing his best to speak through his heavy breathing. ”Enton’s only gonna be there a day at most.”

”Let me guess, a mysterious benefactor paid off whatever was due and now he's free to go.” Alphonse tries to sound unimpressed and reprimanding, but his tone falls a little short.

Ed’s answering grin is so wide it could eclipse the sun. I can’t help but smile; surely, Enton wasn’t in his right mind when he tried to steal from a garden full of poisonous plants. No one could be.

Edward’s face darkens almost immediately though, and motions for me to move over so he can sit down. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, turns his head to look toward his brother and I.

“The real problem is why he was in that place to begin with. Apparently, someone with a weird tattoo said that they’d help his sister out if he got a specific plant for them.”

“It wasn’t foxglove, was it,” I ask, more or a statement than a question. Ed shakes his head.

“No, and that’s the thing,” he continues, looking back down as he laces his fingers. “What Enton was there for us a thing called jequirity.”

I stumbled up on my feet and cover my mouth. That can’t possibly be right. Jequirity beans are one of the five most deadly plants my parents had always told me to be weary of. No one even wants to touch them; plants are usually burned as soon as they’re found.

“What’s wrong, Anna?” Alphonse asks, standing up next to me.

“Jequirity beans,” I start, clearing my throat and forcing myself to blink. “Are so poisonous that literally just touching them can kill you. Craftsmen have died trying to make jewellery out of them. One bean can make enough poison to kill at least five grown men.”

"What could you even do with those?” Alphonse’s voice is small and quiet; sounds every bit as young as he is.

“If they really are homunculi...” I trail off, looking down at Edward. His left hand clenched tightly around his right.

“They’d be able to handle them without a problem,” he says, voice hoarse, finishing my thought.

The silence that hangs between us stretches on for a while. Several cars roll by in the meanwhile. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it—how what are essentially immortal, artificial humans are chasing after a poison so deadly just touching it could kill you. I don’t know that I want to think of why they want that.

My mind immediately springs back to Enton. I slump back down onto the bench, next to Edward. He’d been wearing at least one glove, but I can’t remember if he’d had two. He had to have been, right? The thought of anyone putting that boy in danger, and using his sister as leverage, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“We... you can do something to stop this, right?” I ask, not directing the question at either brother in particular. “I’m worried someone might go after Enton. If he failed...”

“She’s right, brother,” Alphonse starts, taking a step forward. “We can stay another day or two to keep an eye on him, right? Colonel Mustang isn’t expecting you back in Central for another two weeks.”

Edward makes a face and groans, sitting up straight and tossing his head back.

“Man..! It’s not like I can just leave that kid here like that knowing what might happen.” Ed runs a gloved hand over his face, turns a bit to look at me. “I don’t need to ask, do I?”

“Not a question,” I answer, shaking my head and grabbing the strap of my bag as I stand. “If there’s anything I can do to help you two or Enton, I want to stay. Especially if it means preventing someone’s death. Central’s library can wait.”

Ed sighs but rises to his feet anyways.

“Well, we better get back to the inn then,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage given the situation. “Enton’s safer in there than anywhere else, so he’ll be fine until they release him tomorrow. We can come pick him up then.”

I bite my lower lip to stop the grin from splitting my face. Alphonse and i quickly catch up.

“Thanks, Ed,” I say quietly, after walking for a few minutes. “You probably wouldn’t have had to do this if it wasn’t for me.”

I simple forward when Edward smacks my back.

“Don’t sweat it! This kind of ties in with our research anyways, so it’s not like it’s completely out of the way!”

“Besides,” Alphonse continues. “If we’d found this out without you, we probably would have spent even more time figuring out what jequirity beans are, so you’re kind of making it easier for us!”

I exhale sharply through my nose, pulling my jacket closer to me and trying to ignore the heat rushing to my face.

“When you put it that way...”

Ed rushes a few steps ahead before turning around. Again, his grin is wide enough to lift up the night sky.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”


End file.
